


Better than love letters

by miraeyeteeth



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: I have a weakness for monsters in love, Id Fic, Implied Cannibalism, M/M, The Entities really did a number on these guys, Web!Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 04:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17615180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraeyeteeth/pseuds/miraeyeteeth
Summary: Martin wants to give Jon a gift.





	Better than love letters

“I wanted to run back, to grab him and drag him out, but he was already waist-deep in the webs and I somehow knew that they wouldn't be as easy to move through, getting out, as they seemed to be while he was wading into them. He didn't even look back at me when I screamed his name. And I… I ran. I left him and Tara and Ian to that place. I told myself I was going for help.

“But when I went to the police, they told me that the building was empty. That they had checked, and there wasn't any sign of anyone who disturbed the dust for months. And there wasn't even a basement for them to check.”

Jon felt a niggling suspicion in the back of his mind, listening to this statement. “It's because that isn't the right address, is it? Tell me where this actually happened.” Jon said, implacably.

“Mile Lane, in Coventry,” she replied immediately. Then her eyes abruptly went dim and unfocused. “What? No, that's, that's not right. It was in Birmingham. I remember very clearly. I don't know why I thought…”

“I see. Nevermind that, then. You've had a very traumatic experience. I think that should be everything. Thank you, Ms. Chaudhury. We’ll see what kind of follow-up we can do, and if you leave your contact information with Rosie at the front desk, we will get in touch with you if there’s any sign of your friends or fiance.”

“I'm afraid that there won't be. At least, nothing that would be good news.”

“I'm sorry.”

She shook her head. “There's nothing you can do. Thank you for listening, at least.”

“Of course,” Jon replied, and watched as Ms. Chaudhury disappeared through his office door.

Jon was on the next train to Coventry within the hour.

* * *

 

The building was relatively easy to identify, once he reached the actual location of the statement. The cobwebs were a dead giveaway. Jon slipped inside and headed for the basement, flicking on his torch to illuminate the dark, empty building.

There was a set of double doors at the base of the stairs, the windows on them entirely obscured. Jon took a deep breath and stepped forward.

As he pushed the door open, a noose of web wound around Jon’s wrist and dragged him inside. He gasped, his torch falling to the ground with a clatter. Another thread captured his other wrist, and then his arms were dragged up over his head. His feet still rested on the ground, but the tension in the webs was tight enough that he couldn't move from the spot.

“Hello, Jon,” a familiar voice echoed from out of the darkness.

Jon licked his lips nervously. “Martin. I thought it must have been you.”

Jon's former assistant stepped into the light of the torch, a soft smile on his face. “And you came to find me, like I hoped you would. I wanted to show you what I've done with the place. My new… is ‘lair’ too pretentious? Probably a bit, right? New home, then. Do you want the grand tour?”

Jon glanced around the vast, dark space. Cobwebs covered almost every inch of wall, ceiling and floor, stretching like the vaulting of some bleak cathedral. The white silk only served to highlight the swarming dark dark creatures that worked to weave even more web. Three large shapes were suspended within the hanging threads, utterly encased in the web. A tarantula skittered over Jon’s shoe.  “I think I can see enough from here,” he replied.

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind,” Martin replied casually.

“Let's cut to the chase. Ms. Chaudhury. The statement-giver. You let her go on purpose, didn't you?” Jon demanded.

“Of course I did. I knew she would find her way back to the Institute, to you. Did you like her statement? I tried to make it as interesting as possible.” Martin took a step towards Jon, his eyes bright and his smile unwavering.

“I'll be seeing you in my nightmares. Again,” Jon gritted out.

Martin’s smile widened, and he took another step closer. “You took the statement yourself? That’s very flattering. How many dreams do you have of me, now?”

Jon glared at him. “Six.”

“Gosh, really? That many already? I must be starting to seem desperate.”

“A bit, yes,” Jon said flatly.

“Sorry, sorry. I can’t really help it. You know how it is, Jon,” Martin came closer again, and Jon met the gaze of his two primary eyes. “Though I can’t say that I’m really too put out, you know? At the idea of you thinking of me every night.”

Jon grit his teeth. “Like you need the help of nightmares to accomplish that. You aren't easily forgettable, Martin. You haven't been for a long time, and I know you're aware of it. And besides, this isn’t about that, is it? It's not about staking your claim to my nightmares. This is about you trying to make sure I'm… well-fed.”

Martin shrugged. “What can I say? Old habits die hard, I guess,” he replied, taking another step towards Jon. He was within arm's reach, now. Jon's heart started beating faster.

“I don't need taking care of, Martin.”

Martin tilted his head to the side. “Oh, Jon. You and I both know that's not true. Just look at you now. And isn't it nice, this way? Everyone wins. Well, maybe not everyone,” Martin admitted, his eyes flicking over to the unmoving suspended shapes above them. “But you and I, at least.”

“You keep acting like I should be _appreciative_ of this, Martin.”

“Well, it would be nice. I do like being appreciated. And a thank you won't kill you, Jon. I promise,” Martin said, and there was a split second where Martin's smile was _wrong_ , where his teeth were dark and sharp and curved. The image of it was gone as soon as it registered, leaving only blunt white teeth that shone in the light of the torch.

Jon yanked at the threads holding his wrists, struggling against the trap. There was no give, no leverage. Jon was caught. He let out a shuddering exhale. “How about you let me go, and then I'll show my appreciation properly,” Jon said, finally meeting Martin's eyes again.

“Of course, Jon. You only need to ask,” Martin replied, and suddenly the webs unraveled from around Jon's wrists. Jon brought his hands down, rubbing at his wrists. There was no point to it; the webs had been holding him just tightly enough that he couldn't escape, not enough to cut off circulation. He looked back up at Martin, who was waiting patiently for Jon to make a move.

Nothing for it, then.

Jon lunged forward, wrapping his hands around the back of Martin's neck. Jon pulled Martin's face down, and stood on tiptoe to press his lips against Martin's.

Martin hummed against Jon's mouth, his hands settling first on Jon's hips, then crawling up Jon's back. A shiver ran up Jon's spine, and he pressed more deeply into the kiss. Martin tasted just a bit like blood, and a bit more like toothpaste.

Martin finally wrapped his arms around Jon, pulling him close against the warm, soft bulk of his body. Jon sighed into Martin's lips and melted against him, running one hand up through Martin's hair. He paid no mind to the tiny legs that skittered politely away from his fingers.

“I’m still cross with you,” Jon grumbled against Martin's lips when he eventually broke the kiss. “You disappear for _months,_ and then the first sign of you I get is from a statement? It's called a telephone, Martin.”

Martin chuckled, the vibrations of it shivering through Jon where he was pressed against Martin’s body. “Sorry. Sorry, I just couldn't resist. I've been so busy lately with the whole business, and this seemed like a great way to kill two birds with one stone. I did mean to contact you sooner, but I just got… caught up. You know how it can be. I know from experience that the Beholding can be demanding, too. I thought giving you a gift might smooth over things, a bit. Can you forgive me?” Martin asked, lifting one hand to cup Jon's cheek. His thumb skimmed a warm line over Jon's cheekbone, and Jon leaned into the touch.

“If I really must,” Jon muttered, pulling Martin back down for another kiss.


End file.
